Childhood Blues
by Giselle
Summary: JH ficlet - Takes place in the past...long before our loving couple even understands the concept.


**Title:  **Childhood Blues

**Author:  **Giselle

**Category:  **Jake/Hamilton

**Rating: ** G

**Disclaimer: ** Dude, after all this time is this still necessary?  *sigh*  Don't own.  Never will.  Happy?

**Summary: ** Just a short, little fic I wrote to help me get going again.  Takes place in the past...long before our loving couple even understands the concept.

**Thanks: ** To everyone who still wants to read my fics, who believe in me to get my butt going and write.  I really appreciate you guys.  :)

Nothing in the world could have been worse than sitting on the bumper of a car, swinging a pair of scrawny legs that couldn't even quite reach the ground, while you waited for your mother to grab the last box of her "stage" clothes, on the main street of Camden, New Jersey.  At least, that's what Jacqueline Pratt thought.

It wasn't even having to sit there that was making her lips push together in an angry pout.  It was the fact that after the last box was loaded into the back of their old, white Volvo, Jacqueline would be heading over to say good-bye for the very last time to her bestest friend in the whole, wide world.

Moving sucked.

Maybe she could hide out under Megan's bed and wait until her mom left.  She could take Mr. Bears with her and they could live there happily.  Of course, it might be a little hard to get back and forth to the bathroom when she had to go, but she was sure she'd be okay if Megan stood guard for her and made sure that Mr. and Mrs. Campbell didn't know she was in there.  It would be just like an under-the-covers operation!  Whatever those were...

When the time came for first grade she could sneak out the window of Megan's bedroom and no one would know the difference.  Megan had plenty of extra clothes that she could use.  They were a little different than hers, and they weren't quite as fun to wear, but she could still use them even if they weren't pink.  It could be good.

Sighing loudly, Jacqueline kicked her left leg out hard in front of her, watching it fly up, only to fall back down and swing lightly back and forth again.  As much as she wanted to stay here with her best friend, Jacqueline would probably go with her mom anyway.  After all, who would make the toast for breakfast or keep the cookie jar from getting too full if she weren't there?  Who would pick out which necklace her mom should wear to parties, or powder her nose before a big performance?

No, she would have to stay with her mom.  She would be a real mess if Jacqueline weren't there.  She was getting old and would need her daughter to take care of her soon anyway.  That's what happened to old people - their kids took care of them when their hair started to turn gray, and her mom kept saying that Jacqueline was going to give her gray hairs.  It was in...invet...inevivabatle - a word hard enough to say even if she didn't know what it really meant.

Sighing again, Jacqueline looked down the busy street.  A big, yellow truck had just begun pulling into the driveway of the house right beside theirs, making a funny beeping noise as it went backwards.  She thought it looked kind of small, since it should have been bigger.  Big trucks were always bigger than that one looked.

Right behind it was another car that pulled up next to the sidewalk out on the street.  A skinny boy that looked about her age pushed open the door and jumped out before the husband and wife sitting in the front seat even got the chance (She could tell they were married because the wife looked mad and the husband looked like he was trying to calm her down).  He looked up at the big house in front of him before turning around and spotting her.  Taking a long look back at the car that he'd just gotten out of, the boy stuck his hands into his baggy pants, looked down at the sidewalk, and started walking over to where she was sitting.

Glancing quickly over at her house, Jacqueline's frown grew deeper.  Her mom told her never to talk to strangers, and this kid definitely looked strange!  His pants were too big, his shirt didn't have any sleeves and he wasn't wearing any socks with his shoes, which was just icky.  Maybe she should go back inside...

Before she had a chance to jump down from the car, the boy from next door was already in front of her, looking at her with his nose scrunched up.  She folded her arms wondering what _he_ wanted.

"Wha'cha doin'?" he asked, staring at her sideways with a curious look on his face.

Sitting up taller and poking out her chin, Jacqueline replied, "Sitting on my car, duh."

"Oh," the little boy said, shrugging and looking back down.

Rolling her eyes, Jacqueline leaned back and put her elbows down on the hood.  She could already tell he was a dork.  "What's your name?"  The boy looked back up at her.  It seemed like he were trying to decide whether or not he was going to tell her, because his face screwed up even more than it had before.  "You do got a name, don't you?"

"Of course I got a name," he said, looking mad.  "I just don't like my name is all."

"Well, if you don't tell me it, what am I supposed ta call ya?" Jacqueline asked, annoyed.  Were boys always this stupid to talk to?

Looking up at the sky for a minute, he finally seemed to decide on a name for himself.  "Fleming," he told her, nodding once to make it right.

"Fleming?" Jacqueline repeated, pulling one of her legs up and hugging it to her.  "Like the stuff that's in your nose when you have a cold?  Ew!"

"No!  Like my last name, duh!" he mimicked, huffing.

Looking him over, Jacqueline finally gave him a toothy grin.  "Okay, guess you're not too strange anymore, so we can be friends if you want."

A crooked smile spread over the boys face as she said this, and he jumped up onto the car, plopping down next to her.  "So, what's your name?" he asked, swinging his scrawny legs back and forth.  "I told you mine."

"You told me your last name, not your _real_ name," she said, kicking the license plate, which clunked underneath her foot.  "You probly couldn't even say it right even if I did tell you _anyways_."  She looked sideways at him, watching to see if he would get mad again.

"Could too!  I could say any name you have!" he shot back, folding his arms and frowning.

Her smile grew wider as she watched him try to kick at the pebbles on the ground.  He was fun to tease.

"Use Jackie, `cause I don't like my name neither," she admitted, dropping her head onto her knee.

"I could still say it," he mumbled, watching a rock knick his sneakers and bounce away from them.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes, watching men start lifting boxes out of the yellow truck and carry them into the house next door.  Flemling's mom and dad were still in their car.

"Are you moving into old Mrs. Miller's house?" Jackie finally asked.  "She's got good cookies that she gives to kids when she bakes `em.  But I haven't seen her for a while, so I didn't have any since a long time ago."  She still liked Oreos better, but Mrs. Miller's cookies were the best to have when you wanted chocolate chips!

The Flemling kid shook his head and scratched his knee.  "That's where my Grandma lives.  Dad says that she's sick right now and needs us to stay with her so she can get better for a while.  So we came a bagillion miles away so that my Mom can cook for her and Dad can mow her lawn.  Mom told me that I have to be quiet and not bug her though, so I'll probably have to stay in my room when we're here."  He scrunched up his nose again, and Jackie could tell that he didn't want to stay inside all the time.

"I got in a accident on my bike once and had to stay in my room for a whole month one time!" she told him, trying to make him feel better.  "Mom gave me all sorts of ice cream and stuff.  Maybe you'll get ice cream too."

"Dad doesn't like me eating it.  He said that it's bad for me and he makes me eat yogurt instead."  Sticking out his tongue, he made a face that told her yogurt didn't taste too good.  She hoped her Mom never made _her_ eat it.

Turning his head towards Jackie's house, Flemling asked happily, "So is that where you live?  It looks kinda small."

Jackie frowned.  "It's not my house anymore.  Mom's making us move away."  She still wanted it to be her house.  The cat that always came into the back yard in the morning wouldn't know where she'd gone to.  She hoped it could get enough food without her.

Flemling dropped his shoulders and a frown was on his mouth.  "So I guess I won't be able to come over then," he said, rolling a rock with his toes.

Jackie shook her head and bit her lip.  "Nope.  Sorry."

"That's okay," he told her, setting his chin on his fists.  "Dad wouldn't let me come over anyway, I bet.  He said we weren't gonna be here long enough for me to make friends, so I probly won't."

"Well, you still made friends though," Jackie told him, smiling at how smart she was.  "We were friends, even although I'm leaving, right?  So you definitely made a friend!"

Flemling smiled crookedly at this, and looked at her again.  "I did make a friend!"

"Jacqueline!  Say goodbye to that little boy and hop in the car quickly, we've got to go!"  A pretty, fancy dressed woman had just stepped out of Jackie's house with a large box in her arms.

"Is that your mom?" Flemling asked, standing up and sticking his hands back inside his pockets.  She looked like the box was heavy.

Jacqueline frowned again, not wanting to leave even more now.  But she knew that she had to, her Mom would never let her stay behind to play with her new friend.  "Yeah, it's my Mom.  Guess I hafta go now."

"Yeah, guess so."  He looked down again, poking at a dead worm on the sidewalk.

"See ya when I see ya," she told the strange boy, walking over to the car and hopping inside.

Hamilton scrunched up his nose and watched as she drove off down the street.  Girls were weird.

**~The End~**


End file.
